


Tumblr Works

by Sunset2304



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Atlético Madrid, Blowjobs, Comfort, Crying, Drabbles, FC Barcelona, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hickeys, M/M, Making Out, Semi-Public Sex, Short Stories, Smut, oneshots, real madrid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:50:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9402395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunset2304/pseuds/Sunset2304
Summary: A little collection of all my football drabbles, short stories and oneshots. I do all kinds of different pairings, no matter what club they play for. Normally I post these on my tumblr but maybe you'll enjoy as well.





	1. Antoine Griezmann x Koke Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> This was my entry into a competition to try and win an Antoine Griezmann Spanish GQ magazine. I didn't win but hey, I like these anyways. Those drabbles are too short to post on their own so I'm doing them all together.  
> I hope you enjoy and as always, leave comments and feedback. Thank you and enjoy <3
> 
> Also follow me on tumblr and request stuff: createaworldofstars-blog.tumblr.com

New Hairstyles  
“Grizi.” Koke whimpers, sounding breathless. “I’ve decided that I like you’re new hairstyle.”  
Antoine hums deeply, bobbing his head one last time before pulling off his cock with a filthy pop.  
“Did you now?” He asks, his voice a bit wrecked from having a dick down his throat.  
It makes Koke weak in the knees. Antoine smirks up at him, his lips shiny and swollen before leaning back in and letting his boyfriend’s dick slip back into his mouth.  
Koke moans and rakes his fingers through Antoine’s sweaty curls, guiding him down.  
Yeah, he thinks, he really, really likes it. 

What are you wearing?  
Antoine is confused.  
“Why is everybody looking at me like that?” He whispers to Koke when they start walking down the line of opponents, shaking hands and dishing out smiles.  
He can feel their eyes on him after he passes and it really starts to creep him out.  
“Koke.” He hisses when his boyfriend walks past him but the younger Spaniard only shrugs.  
Antoine clenches his jaw and takes his place next to Torres who is also looking at him funny.  
“What’s wrong?” He asks again, the desperate edge in his voice making the older man grin a little.  
“Antoine.” He says softly. “You do realize that you are wearing Koke’s jersey, right?”  
When Antoine turns around, his cheeks burning hot, Koke is smirking at him. 

Transfer  
“Can you shut up for five minutes, please?” Antoine yells.  
Koke stops pacing and spins around, he is frowning deeply, his dark eyes glaring daggers at Antoine.  
“Why?” he barks. “What do you have to say?”  
“I didn’t sign with Manchester.” The Frenchman says calmly. “I’m staying here.”  
Suddenly it’s very quiet. Koke looks like somebody just hit him in the face, all anger having left him.  
“Why?” He asks then, his voice much softer now.  
Antoine snorts and runs a hand through his messy hair. He doesn’t look at Koke when he says it.  
“Because of you.” 

Losing the Euro 2016  
“You lost but you’re still a hero.” Koke says when Antoine opens the hotel room door.  
The Frenchman just smiles a bit and steps aside so his boyfriend can enter. He’s happy Koke is here but he’s not in the mood to talk. He’s not really in the mood to do anything really.  
“Antoine.” The Spanish man says when they are lying on his bed. “It’s not your fault”  
Again, he doesn’t answer, just tugs his face into Koke’s neck and shuts everything else out. Just when he is about to fall asleep his boyfriend’s voice cuts through his sleepy haze once more.  
“I wore your jersey today.” He whispers and that’s the first time Antoine smiles since the final whistle blew. 

Koke’s sick  
“I need 50 more.”  
“50 kisses?” Antoine frowns and shakes his head at Koke. “I’m gonna get myself sick if I do that.”  
The younger man snorts and is about to say something in return before a horrible coughing fit takes hold of him, shaking his body and Antoine who is sitting on top of him. When Koke is done his eyes are all watery and he looks so miserable it actually hurts Antoine to look at him.  
“Fine.” He says and eases himself down until he can press his forehead to Koke’s. “Screw it. I can get sick and still score. Let’s make out.”  
He doesn’t have time to scold Koke for his smug grin before their lips meet. 

 

Party Time  
“I’m too sober for this.” Antoine moans when Koke pulls him into his lap.  
He’s had a few drinks and the world is spinning around him but he stills feels himself flush at the thought of getting caught fooling around in a booth in the back of some nightclub. The press would just laugh that.  
“I’m not.” Koke slurs and drags his lips up Antoine’s neck, sucking his sweet spot.  
The smaller man whines, his dick twitching with interest.  
“Koke.” He tries again but then his boyfriend has a hand in his pants, slowly stroking him till he is fully hard.  
“Don’t worry mon amour, nobody’s gonna see.”  
Honestly, Antoine doesn’t care anymore.


	2. Antoine Griezmann x Koke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Krizi oneshot on how Antoine reacts to Koke trying to learn French for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit longer then a normal drabbles so this ended up being a oneshot. I'm a sucker for Antoine Griezmann and everything about him. 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr if you like: createaworldofstars-blog.tumblr.com

Learning French  
“Why are you smiling like that?” Antoine asks when Koke walks into their living room.   
He is lying on the couch, lazily flipping through a few TV channels, trying to find something decent to watch. He groans in pain when Koke comes over and flops down on top of him without warning.  
“Get off me.” The little Frenchman whines, struggling against his stronger boyfriend for a while before Koke starts laughing at him and rolls off to the side.  
He fits himself against Antoine’s back and the older man doesn’t miss the way he nestles his crotch against his ass.  
“Are you smiling because you think I’ll let you fuck me on the couch?” He asks, shivering a bit when Koke’s lips find the back of his neck. “Because that’s not happening.”   
“I bought a book today.” He replies instead, completely ignoring Antoine’s comment.  
“Congratulations. I didn’t know you could read.” Anto shoots back.   
“It’s a French book.” He says, still unmoved by the playful insults.   
“Now, even if you could read, you couldn’t read that Kokito.” Antoine frowns, scooting away a bit so he can look over his shoulder.  
Koke is still smiling.   
“I know but it’s a book to learn French.” He mumbles.  
A warm feeling starts seeping into Grizi’s stomach and he finds himself returning Koke’s soft smile. Their eyes meet and he twists around so they can lay chest to chest now. Their lips find each other and Antoine let’s Koke use a bit of tongue even though they do have a game tomorrow and he doesn’t want to get too worked up.  
“You are gonna be a disgrace for my language.” Antoine teases lightly when they pull apart to breathe. “You suck at speaking anything else but Spanish.”  
“Shut up French boy.”   
“Okay.”   
And then they are kissing again.


	3. Neymar x Lionel Messi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neymar watches Leo lose the Copa America on TV.

Neymar doesn’t realize he is crying until he can taste the salt in his mouth. He blinks, once, twice and then mechanically wipes his tears away. His eyes never leave the TV because he is still hoping that maybe the pictures flickering across the screen will change if he just keeps on looking.   
Argentina has just lost the Copa America and Neymar’s heart hurts like it did when Brazil was humiliated during the world cup. Now, Argentina certainly hasn’t been humiliated, they fought until the very end and lost nonetheless.   
The camera moves and suddenly an image of Leo is filling his screen. Neymar’s heart shatters when he sees his expression. Normally Leo keeps his emotions well in check but this time, this time all the hurt and the disappointment, the anger and the sorrow are written all over his face. He can’t hide them any longer and Ney understands for the first time how exhausting it must have been to keep them stored away for so long. Because Leo always has to be strong. For his team and his family and for Argentina as well. And while Neymar watches him cry he wishes so desperately to be able to be strong for Leo but he knows he can’t be.   
So instead Neymar sits on his couch and suffers with him, clutching his phone tightly in one hand. He opens Leo’s and his chat, stares at his good luck message from earlier and spends an eternity thinking about what to write. When he finally starts typing, this is what comes out: 

“I know it hurts now but it will not hurt forever.” 

Three hours later Leo replies with a simple:

“I know.” 

It’s just two words but Neymar knows they will be okay.


	4. Neymar x Lionel Messi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo wears Neymar's jersey.

“I look stupid in yellow.” Leo says when he steps out of the bathroom.  
Neymar turns around, phone in his hand, snapping a picture of the older man before he even has the chance to start complaining.   
“Fuck you!” Leo hisses and steps in front of the mirror, tugging on the bright yellow jersey incredulously.   
It fits him perfectly but the crease on Leo’s forehead tells Neymar that his boyfriend feels uncomfortable anyways. He puts his phone away and walks over, slipping his arms around Leo’s muscular body from behind.  
“Lo siento.” He whispers and presses a kiss to the back of Leo’s neck . “I just had to take a picture, this is gold.”   
Leo grumbles, his frown not yet disappearing.   
“Seriously Neymar. I look stupid.”   
“Nah.” The young Brazilian trails one of his hands down Leo’s broad chest, smoothing down the shirt in the process. “You look hot.”   
Leo doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring at his reflection in the mirror. It looks wrong, him wearing the Brazilian jersey instead of the one of his home country. He misses the familiar blue and white stripes; at least they don’t make him look as pale as this stupid, flashy yellow does. The only thing that feels right to Leo is the number 10, which is adorning his back. It iss Neymar’s number after all.   
He looks up then and meets his boyfriend’s eyes in the mirror. Neymar is beaming at him, looking like the freaking sun himself. Leo sighs and lifts one hand to rub at his forehead.  
“I guess-“ He starts. “-I guess it doesn’t look that bad.”   
The smile he gets in return is more dazzling then the color of the Brazilian jersey.


	5. Neymar x Lionel Messi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neymar meets Leo for the very first time at his first training session in Barcelona.

At 03:47pm Neymar texts Rafaella that he thinks he’s dying. Her reply is a string of emojis sticking their tongues out at him and he huffs annoyed, burying his phone in his pocket.   
She doesn’t understand. 

Neymar is sitting in one of the many conference rooms in Barca’s training center, tapping his foot against the carpet nervously. He can’t sit still either, shifting around in his chair constantly. It’s his first day of training with the FC Barcelona and Neymar actually thinks he’s going to die. 

He has a lot of mixed feelings about this. On one hand he is a ball of excited energy, ready to run out onto the pitch and show them what he can do and on the other hand anxiety is pooling in his stomach, forcing him to think about all the things that could possibly go wrong.

And there are a lot of things that could go wrong.

He could mix up Portuguese and Spanish while speaking to the other players. He could be annoying because he is a very extroverted person who tends to overstep boundaries without really noticing AND he could also play bad. That, Neymar thinks, is the worst thing that could happen.   
He knows he has talent, the FC Barcelona bought him after all, but sometimes when he gets nervous he can’t concentrate on the ball and ends up looking like a god damn amateur. And he is really fucking nervous.

No, no, no, that can’t happen. Not on his first day of training and not in front of Lionel Messi, the undisputed king of soccer. 

Neymar has admired Messi his whole life. He still remembers seeing him play for Argentina the first time, remembers the way Messi outplayed everybody who dared to step in his way, remembers how he scored and lead his team to victory. Ever since Neymar realized what soccer is, he has idolized Leo and strived to play like him, even though he knows that’s not possible. Nobody plays like Leo Messi does, but simply the idea of playing for the same team makes Neymar’s breath catch in his throat.

Five minutes later one of the assistance coaches comes to pick him up and leads him down a few corridors towards the field where the team is already warming up. They make small talk on their way down and it makes Neymar relax a bit but when they step out into the sun and a few players turn to look at him he feels himself tensing up again. 

“You’re gonna be fine.” The coach says and pats his back sympathetically. 

Neymar can only nod, his heart thudding away in his chest. They reach the group of players and then he kind of has a little blackout because everybody crowds around him and Neymar doesn’t know where to look first. There are a lot of voices and a lot of Spanish and he tries his best to smile and answer all the questions being thrown at him. Apparently he does well enough because soon Gerard Piqué, Barcelona’s defender has an arm wrapped around his shoulders, introducing him to everybody.

Neymar is grateful because he tries to speak extra slow and he knows that’s hard to do for most Spaniards. 

“And this-” Gerard says and nudges Neymar forward a little. “- is our master, our king, the one and only Leo Messi.” 

Neymar’s heart almost leaps out of his chest when he is suddenly face to face with his idol. A weird mixture of joy, excitement and awe flows through him, overloading his brain completely. He feels dizzy all of sudden, not really believing that Lionel Messi is standing in front of him.

“Oh my god.” Is the first thing he gets out and immediately wants to take it back because really? 

His new team mates burst into laughter around him and he feels Gerard’s giant hands massage his shoulders a bit as if to relax him. Leo only smiles at him and extends a hand which Neymar hastily takes in his, squeezing a bit too tightly.

“Nice to meet you. I’m glad you’re joining us this season.” Leo says politely and Neymar thinks he might faint.

“Me too.” He gasps, trying desperately to form coherent sentences. “I’m sorry my hands are so sweaty, I’m just- really pumped to meet you.” 

Somebody coos behind him but Ney doesn’t turn around, just keeps looking at Leo. The older man glances down at his hand and then shrugs. 

“That’s okay, don’t worry.” 

“No, I’m really sorry. I don’t want you to think I’m weird but you’re my idol and yeah, I probably shouldn’t be saying that but again I’m so nervous, I’m about to faint. I’m sorry.” 

Messi frowns a bit and wow, now that Neymar can really look at him he notices how fucking hot Leo is. He’s so screwed. 

“Do you want to sit down? We don’t want you to hurt yourself.” 

“No, no! I’m fine just standing here. Just a bit overwhelmed.” 

“Well, then I will stay with you until you feel better so the others can go back to training.” 

There is some moaning and murmuring around them but to Neymar’s surprise nobody objects and after a few minutes everybody is back doing what they had been before he showed up. Neymar decides to sit down then, his heart still pounding.

“You really don’t need to be nervous.” Leo smiles and crouches down next to him. “I’m not that special, really.” 

Neymar gasps louder then he intended too and blushes when Leo laughs at him.

“To me you are.” He says. “You’re the best.” 

They sit in silence for a while before Leo asks him if he is feeling better. When Neymar nods he helps him to his feet and together they jog to join the team. His first training goes pretty well and on his way back to the locker room Neymar is already typing the first phone numbers into his phone. Leo and Geri are walking a bit ahead of him, not realizing that the Brazilian is following them closely.

“I like him.” Leo is saying.

“Who?” His giant friend asks back. 

“Neymar, I really like him.” 

Geri hums in approval and Neymar’s just glad he didn’t faint right then and there.


	6. Neymar x Lionel Messi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo and Ney celebrate the win against Athletic Bilbao during the Copa del Rey.

Neymar feels like he’s flying. 

The world around him is a blur of colors and faces, the chants of their fans having melted into a deep hum that is vibrating through his whole body. He knows that he is probably smiling in a way that would suggest he’s high or very, very drunk and he is indeed, he is drunk on success. 

This game is nothing special really, just one of many on their way to the final of the Copa del Rey and yet it feels like they’re already holding the trophy in their hands. His body is buzzing and his hands are shaking and he’s so proud of his team for having beaten Athletic even though they were playing dirty. The best thing though is that he knows that they deserve this. He knows because he can still feel his body aching from their tackles, his back and his legs and still they made it. 

And he scored. Fucking finally. 

Neymar’s thoughts are interrupted when somebody crashes into him, almost throwing him off his feet. He can only laugh though because he knows who it is and his heart begins to flutter in his chest even more than it did when he put that damn ball in the back of the net.

“You were so good tonight.” Leo whispers into his ears, his beard tickling Neymar’s ear, making him shiver.

His chest starts to swell and Neymar can feel an even brighter grin spilt across his face. He’s such a sucker for Leo’s praises, it’s disgusting. 

“You were better.” He says because he always does and buries his face in Leo’s neck, holding onto him.

His teammate is sweaty but Neymar can feel his pulse thudding against his cheek in this position and he likes that a lot. Leo’s just as excited as him and it astonishes him how the Argentinian always manages to put them out of their misery. 

“You’re the best.” Neymar tells him and smiles when a deep laugh rumbles through Leo’s chest.

“You always say that.” He responds, petting Neymar’s head a bit awkwardly like he always does when he is proud of the young Brazilian.

“I say it because it’s the truth.” 

Leo hums and continues to hug him for a bit before gently pushing him away. When they finally look at each other there is softness to Leo’s eyes that make Neymar’s knees buckle. His feels his back straightening immediately, knowing what that look means.   
Leo is proud of him and Neymar has to admit that sometimes that’s the only thing that matters. 

“Are you coming to my place later?” Leo asks and when Neymar opens his mouth to over excitedly tell him yes, another set of arms wraps around his neck and Geri is starts yelling the Barca anthem into his ear.

Neymar decides that there is no need to answer Messi’s questions since it’s painfully obvious anyways and joins Geri instead, singing at the top of his lungs.

When he looks over again Leo is smiling.


	7. Cristiano Ronaldo x James Rodriguez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cristiano convinces James to stay with Real Madrid.

Cristiano rings the doorbell at 1:34am. James is wearing a pair of polkadot boxers and a loose shirt when he pads downstairs and opens the door with his eyes still heavy from sleep.

“Cristiano?” He mumbles confused when he catches sight of his teammate. “It’s so early.”

“I don’t care.” His visitor says and steps into the hallway, confident like always.

Even though it’s the middle of the night, Cristiano’s outfit, like always, is perfectly put together. He is wearing a pair of black designer jeans that make his ass look nice, a clean white button-up shirt and a light brown leather jacket above that. Real leather of course.  
James feels stupid, standing next to him in only his boxers and a ratty t-shirt. He looks like he just rolled out of bed, which he actually has, thank you very much.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, shifting from one foot to the other.

“I need to talk to you.” Cristiano answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

James huffs but gives in. There is no need in denying Cristiano anything. He always gets what he wants, even if it’s 01:39am in the morning.

“Fine. Let me get dressed then.”

“No.” His teammate shakes his head at him. “There’s no need for that. I have to talk to you now.”

James just looks at him for a second but decides not to question him. He’s not gonna question anything tonight.  
They go to the kitchen and sit across from each other on Jame’s kitchen table. Cristiano folds his hands and clears his throat like he’s about to deliver a big speech.

“James.” He starts off. “You can’t leave Real.”

James’s heart sinks in his chest. So this is what he wants to talk about.

“I don’t think that’s for you to decide.” He replies but his voice sounds a bit weak.

“I know it’s not but I’m telling you anyways. You can’t leave.”

“Why not?” James asks back, his voice already becoming a bit more aggressive. “I don’t understand why I should stay if I don’t play.”

“You do play.”

“Not as much as I want to.”

Cristiano stops and thinks. He runs one of his thumps across his chin, rubbing it softly. He always does that when he is deep in thoughts and it makes James nervous because all he can do is sit there with his heart pounding away in his chest, waiting for Cristiano to go on.

“I know this year hasn’t been your best year but James, everybody has a streak of bad luck sometimes.” He chooses his words carefully and the way he pronounces his name makes James shiver.

“It’s not just a streak of bad luck. I don’t fit in with the rest of you. I feel like I forget how to play soccer when I step onto the pitch.”

“You only think that because they want you to think that. The media and some of our fans but you and me both know that’s not true.”

James lowers his gaze and starts drawing circles onto his kitchen table.

“I’m not sure about that Cristiano.”

“Well, I am. And you know what? If you leave now, then the media gets what they wanted all along. And some other people also get what they wanted. If you leave James, then you’ll always be the player that was supposed to make it big but wasn’t able to take the pressure when it came down to business. You will always be the one that left Real because he wasn’t good enough. But you are good enough. One bad season doesn’t mean you’re a bad soccer player. You’re worth it James, you’re worth everything and if you let them knock you down this time, you will never be able to get back up. You’ll be weak.”

“I’m not weak.”

“No, you’re not and that’s exactly why you need to stay. You need to show them who you are, James. You have to fight for it.”

The Columbian looks back up, tears prickling in the back of his eyes. He wants to say something but his throat feels like it’s been sewed shut.  
Cristiano gets up from his chair and rounds the table until he is looming over James, who in response slouches down even more.

“James.” He says again. “I know I don’t have a say in this but I will keep telling you: Real needs you. I need you.”

James’s breath hitches and when he locks eyes with Cristiano this time, his heart stumbles.

But only once.

Then it returns to his normal rhythm and it’s like nothing changed other then that James suddenly knows what he has to do.

“I will fight.” He hears himself say without hesitation and then again: “I will stay and I will show them.”

Cristiano smiles, looking satisfied.

“I knew you were not gonna give in.” He grins.

James gets up from his chair as well and before he knows what’s happening he is kissing Cristiano but it’s okay because Cristiano is kissing him as well.  
And right there and then, in the middle of his kitchen at now 02:13am in the morning, he knows he made the right decision.


	8. Neymar x Lionel Messi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neymar and Leo make out, yep, that's all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr: createaworldofstars-blog.tumblr.com - Please come and say hi :)  
> Also this one is called: "A Work Of Art"

Neymar doesn’t pull away immediately when he feels Leo’s hand starting to press against his chest. The older man isn’t applying a lot of pressure yet so Neymar stays where he is, splayed out on top of Leo with his mouth currently occupying his.

They’re on the couch, two PlayStation controllers resting atop the coffee table next to them but Neymar has already forgotten that he was supposed to be kicking Leo’s ass in Fifa.  
His mind isn’t capable to comprehend anything right now, the only thing being the feeling of Leo’s lips on his. His mouth is warm and wet and velvety and Neymar moans when his boyfriend opens up once more, allowing him to lick inside.  
He taste’s nice, Neymar decides as he runs his tongue along Leo’s, playfully fighting it.

“Ney.” The Argentinian gasps into the little space he has. “I need to breath, you need to stop.”

Ney whines but Leo’s hands press harder and soon he is forcefully separated from his boyfriend’s mouth. His brain is fuzzy, probably because of the lack of oxygen, but Neymar strains against Leo’s grip nonetheless, whines and pushes back down. Leo gives in with a small ‘oof’ but tilts his head up so Neymar can’t reach his mouth from the position he is lying in.

For a second the Brazilian is disappointed but then his eyes graze the column of Leo’s neck that is now perfectly on display. When he latches his mouth onto the pale skin his boyfriend groans above him but doesn’t make a move to get him to stop.

Neymar hums deeply and starts sucking a hickey right above Leo’s pulse point. He can feel it thudding against his lips and Leo’s rapid heartbeat makes his own increase as well. After a few seconds he pulls away and regards his masterpiece. Right there on Leo’s otherwise perfectly pallid skin, a violet spot is now blossoming right on the side of his neck.  
Neymar moans, solves the grip he had on the sofa cushion and runs his fingertips over the mark he’s left on Leo.

“Are you okay?” The older man asks, his voice sounding a bit hoarse.

“It looks like art.” Neymar answers in awe and flicks his tongue above the bruise shortly.

Then he goes down Leo’s neck, kisses every patch of skin he can reach, pulls his shirt down as far as it will go and trace his collarbone with the tip of his tongue. He leaves two more hickeys, sucking Leo’s skin lovingly until the pretty blue spots start forming and then licks over them till they spread over his skin some more.  
By the time he’s satisfied with his work Leo is hard beneath him, he can feel his dick straining against the restricting fabric of his jeans.

“And you say I’m the needy one.” Neymar whispers teasingly.

He reaches up to wrap his fingers around Leo’s chin to tilt it towards himself again right when his hips start pressing downwards. Their lips meet in a sweet but fervent kiss and Neymar sucks Leo’s moan right into his mouth.

The Argentinian can’t handle lying still any longer and slides his hands around to Ney’s back. He lets them rest there a little before slowly guiding them further down the curve of his body. They come to a halt on top of the swell of Neymar’s perfectly round butt and when Leo start cupping, Ney’s whole body reacts, pushing back against him.

“You like my ass don’t you?” The younger one chuckles, hoisting himself up a bit more and then diving back down for a kiss.

Leo kisses back, feels Neymar run his tongue along his bottom lip and decides to tease him for a bit. Neymar whines when he doesn’t open up immediately and starts gently biting until Leo finally gives in.

There is a lot of tongue and bit too much spit but neither of them really care. Neymar’s lips are hot, almost searing, on top of his but Leo doesn’t want to stop. He licks back, lets their tongue touch a couple of times before gaining dominance and kissing Neymar until he’s a twitching mess above him.

“Leo.” The Brazilian gasps, ending their session himself this time. “You really need to do something.”

“About what?” He questions, mischief glinting in his eyes.

Neymar whimpers a bit in response and moves his body around until his bulge is pressing up against Leo’s hard dick. He then twists his hips in a way that makes a shot of delicious pleasure zing down Leo’s spine and okay yeah, he really needs to do something about this.

“Come here.” He mumbles and pulls Ney down on top of him again.

They kiss lazily until Neymar’s lips are swollen and glistening with spit. He looks so pretty it actually makes Leo’s heart hurt.

“Neymar?” he murmurs. “What did you call those hickeys you gave me?”

“A work of art.” The Brazilian answers, looking a bit confused.

“Well Ney, the real work of art is you.”


	9. Neymar x Lionel Messi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo gets angry because he is worried for Neymar who keeps being taken down. But Neymar thinks it’s actually really hot to see Leo raging.

Neymar’s POV 

Neymar is sprinting across the field. Cold air is rushing past him, cutting into his skin and he can see his own hectically exhaled breath freezing once it leaves his mouth. It’s officially way too cold to be anywhere else then in his bed or, preferably, nestled in Lionel Messi’s arms. But you know, duties.   
Neymar pushes forward, easily outplaying one of the opponent defenders and sprinting towards the goal. He’s so close, he could pass or take the shot himself, he would just have to go a little bit further. 

Ney looks up once, quickly scanning his surroundings for his teammates. He knows Suarez is somewhere behind him but Leo, Leo’s right there in front of him, way closer to the goal then he is and just when Neymar sets to pass the ball he is suddenly looking up into the sky that stretches out above the stadium. 

He’s confused for a second, breathless even. Then the pain comes and he gasps for air, pressing a hand to the aching spot on his ribs. It’s not too bad but when Neymar sits back up he sees some of his teammates arguing with the referee. It must have been a bad hit then. 

He’s used to this by now and therefore doesn’t spend a second thought on the incident. Instead he gets up and jogs back to take his original position. Leo’s at his side in an instant.

“Are you okay?” He asks, looking Neymar up and down as if checking for any major injuries. 

“I’m fine.” The Brazilian reinsures him and gives him a tiny smile. 

Leo returns it but there is something in his eyes, a glint that makes heat pool in the pit of Neymar’s stomach. He swallows and forces himself to concentrate on the game. 

Leo’s POV 

When Neymar is taken down the first time, worry flares up inside of Leo immediately. He feels his jaw tighten, his fist clench, his heart skip a beat. Everything relaxes again when Ney sits back up, looking somehow dazed. The referee doesn’t call the foul, of course he doesn’t. 

When Neymar is standing again Leo walks after him, glaring at the smug faced defender of Real Sociedad who has taken him down. Leo decides that he doesn’t like that guy.   
He asks Neymar if he is feeling alright, registering the way he keeps touching a spot right beneath his ribcage. When his lover confirms he’s good, Leo relaxes a bit.  
His mind focuses back on the game but his eyes are always with Neymar if he himself is not leading the current attack. They get close a couple of times but never actually score. Something’s off and Leo can feel himself getting irritated. 

When Neymar is taken down a second time he doesn’t react as coolly. He’s worrying even more now, considering the way Neymar keeps lying on the grass until he jogs over and helps him back up.

“That was a foul.” He says when Ney hunches over, clutching his calf. 

“I know.” The Brazilian responds when he stands up again, his breath hanging between them. 

“Be careful.” Leo mumbles, rubbing his palms against his thighs to keep himself from touching Neymar’s face. 

He always wants to touch him but during a game the urge is much stronger. He wants, no he actually needs to make sure that Neymar is okay. 

“You’re worrying.” His boyfriend smiles, making Leo huff.

“Of course I am.” 

“Well behave then, I can take a few hits.” Neymar says but Leo doesn’t miss the shiver that goes through his body when they lock eyes. 

Neymar’s POV 

The second half is just as bad as the first one. They don’t play any better, they play worse actually. The whole process of regaining the ball and then building up an attack is extremely laborious today and Neymar feels tired. His body is aching because he keeps being taken down and the referee keeps calling nothing. It’s maddening and everytime he hits the grass he starts arguing again because it’s just not fucking fair.

He gets a yellow card for that a few minutes later and now that is the top of the mountain. He feels his blood starting to boil but he controls himself, sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and shuts up. He wants to stay on the pitch and show this team of bastards what he could do. 

Once again, his eyes search for Leo but when he finds him his breath catches in his throat. Leo is angry. 

He is standing tall as ever but his body language says it all. Everything about him is tense, every muscles in his body straining. There is a deep fold between his eyebrows and everytime it shows up, somebody is about to get hurt, Neymar knows that for a fact.   
He forces himself to look away, taking one deep breath after another. He can’t get caught up in this now, this is neither the right time, nor the right place to get aroused. He has a game to play and that’s not gonna work any better if he is sporting a boner. 

They continue and still suck. It’s really frustrating and every time Leo’s shots are not met with the back of the net, he starts kicking the grass angrily. When Neymar is taken down again he manages to keep his composure but when he himself is knocked over by the very same asshole that has been after Neymar the whole game, he loses it.  
Ney knows before it happens but the only thing he can do is watch with his mouth agape. 

Leo gets up and walks after the other player, bumping his chest against his arm and hissing few words that Neymar guesses are not pretty.   
What is pretty though, is Leo. Neymar whines a bit, pinching himself to keep from getting turned on but he just can’t help it. He has a weak spot for angry Leo, even used to jerk off to compilations of him getting angry on the field. There are lots and lots on YouTube and Neymar’s sure he has watched every one of them at least twice.   
Angry Leo never fails to bring him off and today is no expectation, he can feel his dick starting to harden.

Leo’s POV

“Seriously, I cannot believe you.” Leo says, squirting shampoo onto his open palm and then starting to work it into Neymar’s short locks.

They’re back in their hotel room after thankfully having won the game at Anoeta. Right now they are taking a shower together because Neymar had some things to- take care of after they got off the field. Afterwards they both were back to being all filthy and sweaty so now, they’re here and Leo is angrily shampooing Neymar’s hair. He still slightly pissed off, feeling a bit hot headed.

“I’m sorry.” Neymar says. “But will you stop ripping my hair out?” 

Leo immediately softens his movements, now only gently cradling Neymar’s skull. His boyfriend starts humming approvingly after a while so Leo continues talking.

“I mean how do you even manage to get hard during a game? I’m way too focused to even think about sex.” 

Neymar snorts and shakes his head, foam flying everywhere. 

“Stop being so judgy, maybe you’re just too old. Also I’m still focusing on the game, I scored the penalty for us, remember? I just get really turned on when I see you being angry. You normally keep your emotions well in check and I don’t know, it’s just really hot.” 

Leo grips Neymar’s head disapprovingly and continues his work. He doesn’t say anything for a while and when Neymar tries speaking up again he holds his face under the stream of water to wash out the shampoo. Neymar splutters, coughing a bit but keeps his mouth shut. He knows when to not bother Leo.

“I was worried about you.” He finally continues their conversation when his boyfriends starts washing him. 

“I know.” Neymar whisperes and presses a sweet kiss to his shoulder. “And I like that even more then you being angry.” 

Leo smiles a bit at that.

“Maybe I am too old.” He says. “When I was younger I got very emotional, very quickly.” 

“Oh my god, those days were my favorite days.” Neymar purrs and plasters himself against Leo’s back. 

“Oh, shut up. You’re disgusting. I don’t understand how you could even be attracted to me when I was your age. Did you see my haircut back then?”   
Neymar’s laugh is warm and easy against his ear.

“It was bad.” He confirms and slides a hand down Leo’s stomach. “But it was still you and I think that this thing right here is working pretty well for his age.” 

Leo looks down and watches Neymar wrap a hand around his cock, which perks up with interest immediately. He likes the contrasts, Neymar’s beautiful tanned skin against his white one and he likes watching himself slide through Neymar’s fingers. His breath becomes a bit shallow and he bites his lip when his boyfriend starts to jerk him slowly, continuing to watch. 

His anger has worn off now and he is free to fully enjoy Neymar’s affections.


	10. Lionel Messi x FC Barcelona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo's depressed after losing the wolrd cup against Germany but his team cheers him up.

Leo’s late to training for the first time in his life. 

When his car rolls into the parking space his usual spot is already occupied by Neymar’s shiny new Porsche. On other days Leo maybe would have been mad but right now he’s just too tired to feel anything. He parks a few meters down and continues sitting in his seat until the clock on his dashboard tells him he is now officially fifteen minutes late.   
He should probably get out and apologize to Enrique but he doesn’t really want to. 

La Liga starts again next week and the first training session after a big tournament is always the hardest, especially after you’ve lost said big tournament. Leo sighs deeply and finally opens the door of his car, slipping out into the warm morning. He gets his bag out of the trunk and then slowly makes his way towards the doors of the trainings center. 

His steps are heavy, his shoulder slumped forward. He’s so tired and the prospect of having to start playing soccer again makes him want to turn around and drive back home. Leo has always loved playing soccer, it was his escape, his second reality but now, after that world cup, he, for the first time in his life, feels like he wants to quit. 

Leo’s in the corridor leading to their locker room by now. He checks his phone, another five minutes have passed, his teammates should be on the pitch by now. He slings his bag over his shoulder, pushes the door open with a heavy sigh and halts midway through, petrified. 

The locker room is not empty like he originally suspected, no, it’s actually crowded. The whole team is there, all dressed in their gears but none of them look like they’re about to get up and join Enrique, who is probably already waiting for them, on the field. They’re waiting for him, all of them.

Something inside of Leo snaps and he tightens his grip around the strap of his bag. Those past few days he has spent the majority of his time sleeping and trying to forget what happened to him in Brazil. At some point he actually got it to stop hurting and now the memory is only a dull throbbing in the back of his skull, that Leo is trying to live with.  
But having all of his teammates waiting for him, his friends and also his family, he suddenly starts hurting all over again.

“What are you all doing here?” He asks, wanting to sound angry but ending up sounding broken. 

He doesn’t wait for any of them to answer and walks over to his bench, sitting down and letting his bag hit the ground with a thud. 

“Are you not happy to see us?” 

Geri’s deep voice is so familiar that it eases Leo’s irritation immediately. He bends down and unties his shoes, trying to breathe evenly and calm his racing heart.

“I am.” He says and as soon as those words leave his mouth he knows he’s not lying. “I’m very happy to see you.” 

Gerard squats so he can look Leo in the eyes when he glances back up. 

“We’re happy to see you too.” The Spaniard says, his face breaking out into one of those dumb grins. “We already thought our captain would miss the first training of the season. We want to kick ass but we can’t do that without you.” 

Leo holds Gerard’s crystal blue eyes for a moment and slowly but surely the uneasy feeling that had been pooling in the pit of his stomach starts to fade away.   
He’s about to open his mouth and say something along the lines of that he’s not sure if he would be able to lead Barcelona to victory this year but before he has the chance to get anything out, Neymar plops down next to him, almost sitting down on his lap.

He’s not wearing his gear but normal clothes instead, Leo can see the outlines of a corset through his thin t-shirt and suddenly he feels bad for not asking Ney how he was when he called him after the final. Leo had been too wrapped up in his own problems to realize that he was not the only one hurting.

“Ney.” He breathes and reaches up to affectionately brush a hand through his hair. “How are you, how’s your back?”

Neymar purrs and nuzzles against his hand a bit.

“I’m good, I’m good, still walking.” He says. “I made you mate.” 

Leo looks down, surprise written all over his face and hears a low laugh rumble through his teams. 

“Did you now?” He mumbles and takes the cup from Neymar, smiling gratefully.

He brings it to his lips, takes a long sip and sighs when the familiar taste spreads through his mouth. 

“Everytime we tried talking to you, you said you were tired.” Neymar babbles on. “So we decided to make you mate.” 

“We?” 

“Luis helped. He knows the way you like it best.” 

Leo’s eyes search for Luis and find him standing next to Geri. 

“You always get grumpy when you don’t drink mate.” He comments and walks over to where Leo is sitting, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “How are you doing?”  
“I’m good.” The Argentinian says and drinks again. 

He can feel his body slowly coming back to life, his mind clearing, his tiredness fading. He’s amazed how easily his teammates can make him feel better, lifting a weight of his shoulder that had been crushing him since the final whistle blew in the Maracanã stadium. It’s then that Leo realizes that they know how he’s feeling. Neymar, Luis, Geri, Dani and Masche, who had suffered alongside him. He’s not alone in this and somehow that makes everything so much better. 

“That’s a lie. That you’re good, I mean.” Geri chirps playfully. “But that’s okay; we will nurse you back to being confident.” 

He ruffles Leo’s hair gently and then the smaller man gets up and wraps his arms around Geri’s giant frame. They hug tightly and when Leo mumbles a soft “thank you” into the giant’s chest, Geri pats his head awkwardly.

“There, there.” He says before separating Leo from him again. “You will be okay, go hug Ney now, he has been longing to hug you since he got injured.”

Leo doesn’t even comment on that, just twists around and walks over to Neymar who happily takes him into his arms. 

“Thank you.” He says again and Neymar squeezes him so hard he has trouble breathing for a moment. 

“You’re still the best in the world.” The Brazilian says and then. “Ouch, be careful with my back.” 

Leo shifts his arms upwards but doesn’t let go off his friend until their whole team crowds around them, joining in on their hug. Soon everybody is chatting like they normally do, the only thing different is that Leo is being passed around the locker room, talking to everybody who had patiently waited for him. Dani covers his face in little encouraging kisses, he hugs Cesc tightly and lets the Spaniard tell him a few horrible jokes before Iniesta comes to steal him away. Puyol invites him for dinner and then squeezes his shoulder tightly, Masche and him have a short but meaningful conversation and when he reaches Marc Barta the young player starts showing him a compilation of Leo’s best goals. 

“You’re the king.” He says when it finishes.

And when Enrique eventually comes to yell at them to get their asses out on the field and everybody scurries out quickly, Leo feels light again.


	11. Neymar x Lionel Messi & Antoine Griezmann x Koke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story is based upon the Samsung Galaxy commercial where football has to save the planet. You can watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RfcWxM4Daqo
> 
> This story revolves around the aliens wanting a rematch and takes place in the spaceship that the players take to reach the stadium. Antoine and Koke are a sidekick, since Grizi was only requested as a side character and Ronaldo x Ramos is also there if you squint like really hard. But it's mainly Neymessi :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr if you want: createaworldofstars-blog.tumblr.com

“I never thought they would come back.” 

Neymar looks up from his phone when he hears the soft Spanish words with the hint of a French accent. Antoine Griezmann, one of his rivals on the pitch in Spain but one of his teammates in the Galaxy 11, is standing next to him, looking a bit awkward. 

“Can I sit?” Antoine asks and gestures to the seat next to the Brazilian. 

“Of course.” Neymar says and hastily collects his stuff, dropping it onto the floor between his feet.

“Thanks.” Antoine gives him a shy smile and then takes a seat beside him. 

He doesn’t say anything else and because Neymar doesn’t know what to say to him either, he just contents himself with staring out of the window into the never ending darkness of the universe. 

The longer he keeps on looking outside, the less he is able to comprehend that he is currently on board of the most advanced spaceship mankind has ever managed to construct.   
The view is amazing but scary and everytime Neymar recalls where they are bringing him, an invincible hand closes around his heart, squeezing until his ribcages feels like it’s on fire. 

“I never thought this was possible.” Antoine suddenly speaks up again.

Neymar turns towards his voice, latches onto it and focuses on the Frenchman next to him, suddenly thankful for his company because the pressure in his chest is back and he feels like he can’t breathe.  
Antoine is not looking at him, his azure eyes fixed on something beyond the glass window of the spaceship. Neymar busies himself with watching Antoine’s gaze move around the galaxy until their eyes meet again.

“Neymar, you need to calm down.” He says immediately when he realizes that Ney’s panicking.

He has been since the moment he opened the door to Pep Guardiola to be honest. He knew that it was coming; he knew he would be selected to defend the planet earth and yet he was not prepared for it. Hell, he doesn’t feel prepared now and their spaceship is actually coming straight from the trainings center where he has spent the past three months of his life. 

“I can’t.” He admits and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment.

He suddenly feels very hot in his high-tech spacesuit, which is supposed to keep his body safe until they arrive at the stadium. That one stadium, that actually belongs to a colony of aliens that now for the second time in a few years, have decided to destroy earth if the humans didn’t agree to play a game of football with them. And they had to win as well.

If Neymar thought about it too much, his head started to hurt.

“This is all so crazy.” The Brazilian mutters desperately.

His hands find their way into his hair, tugging and pulling until his scalp hurts. He just needs something to ground him, needs something to make him feel human because floating through space in giant-ass spaceship is definitely not.

“I know, I know.” Antoine says somewhere above him.

Ney’s eyes are still closed but he appreciates the soothing tone in Antoine’s voice. He hasn’t talked to the Frenchman much, but he already likes his voice. It’s mostly soft and the ways the words roll of his tongue have something elegant to them. He is French after all.

“I feel like I’m stuck in one of those horrible Science-Fiction movies I used to love.” Neymar groans, continuing to rake a hand through his short hair. “If we come back alive, then I’m never fucking watching them again.” 

Antoine chuckles a bit at that, an innocent sound that somehow doesn’t belong here but makes Neymar feel better anyways. His teammate seems so normal, like he is a piece of the real world, the old world, while Neymar feels like he has already lost himself in space. 

“Some are good. Always liked Star Trek.” Antoine says nonchalantly. “Also, stop pulling your hair out. It weirds me out and you want to look good for our victory photo.”

“Sorry.” Neymar drops his hands to his laps and starts fiddling with the fabric of his spacesuit instead. 

Griezmann sits next to him in silence again before pulling out his phone as well and starting to flip through a few photos. 

“Why are you so cool about this?” He has been dying to ask that since Antoine first sat down. 

“I’m not.” The Frenchman mumbles, not lifting his eyes of the screen of his phone.  
Neymar leans over a bit, wanting to at least catch a glimpse of what Antoine is looking at. The young man lets him and together they go through his iPhone gallery, looking at pictures from Antoine with his friends and his family, the team and also Koke. 

“He’s not here.” Neymar says slowly when another picture of the two of them illuminates the screen.

“No.” Antoine sighs deeply, his blue eyes glazing over with something that looks like tears to Neymar.

He swallows and carefully reaches over, patting his back awkwardly. 

“It’s okay, he knew he wasn’t going to be called up.” Antoine says but his voice is laced with silent pain. “And we both knew that they would come knocking at my door eventually.”

“I knew as well.” Ney says, trying to comfort the Frenchman a best as he could. “I knew if they would take Leo, they would take me too.” 

Antoine nods, looks up and scans the large cabin for a sign of Messi. He’s nowhere to be seen. 

“He’s with Ronaldo.” Neymar informs him bitterly. “Has been glued to his hip since the day they shipped us off to the trainings center.”

Antoine glances sideways and Ney avoids his eyes this time. He knows how he sounds, rancorous, frustrated, and maybe even a little bit desperate. He doesn’t want to really, but Leo not paying much attention to him always rubs him the wrong way. Especially in a situation like this. The first few nights in the trainings center Neymar almost went crazy. He couldn’t sleep because everything felt so clinical and strange, the only thing familiar in the large, modern department was Leo but he didn’t spend his nights with Neymar and during the day he was off training with Ronaldo. They were the new dream team, the stars and earth’s biggest hope. The rest of them were just sidekicks. 

“You know that’s not true.” Antoine’s words are back to being soft and reassuring. 

“Did I say that out loud?” 

“Most of it.” 

Neymar tries to laugh but ends up make some sort of pitiful whining sound. He’s scared, okay? He has been since the beginning and he is now and he wants Leo to come and make him feel better because he has been through this once already but fucking Messi is still nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t worry.” Antoine tells him and lightly pokes him in the side. “I don’t like Ronaldo either.” 

Neymar actually has to laugh at that and if he remembers right, it’s the first time he really did since the aliens arrived on earth. And it feels good, it feels like freedom. At least for a few seconds.

“So that makes two of us.” 

Antoine shrugs and nods toward the window.

“And a lot more people down there.” 

Neymar follows his motion and finds himself staring at their home planet. The earth looks so small and insignificant from where they are, like it’s just a blueish dot in a black mass of nothingness. 

“A lot of people don’t like me either down there.” He mumbles and leans his forehead against the cool glass. 

“Well, you are a cool guy and Ronaldo is too, to be honest.”

“Seems like Leo thinks that too.” 

“They are the two most talented and capable players in the world after all. And they’ve been through this already. It’s logical that the coaches, no hold on, that the whole world relies on them and I bet they know that as well. They will lead us.” 

Neymar spares one more glance for the earth and then turns back around. 

“Do you think we can win?”

“Oui.” 

“Why?” 

Antoine’s expression is grave all of sudden. 

“Because we have to.” He picks up his phone, unlocks it and turns it towards Neymar. “I have to.” 

Quietly Neymar looks at Koke smiling at him from the screen of Antoine’s phone and when he opens his mouth to give a reply, the sliding door at the end of the cabin opens and Leo and Ronaldo walk in, side by side. Leo’s eyes find his for only a brief second but it’s enough to make Neymar’s heart throb with desire but also fear.

He nods at Griezmann.

“I understand.” 

Neymar doesn’t realize he has fallen asleep until he wakes up again. His head is resting against the glass of the gigantic window looking out into space and the only sign indicating that they have moved at all, is that he can no longer make out earth in the distance. A shiver rolls down his spine, makes his toes curl and his fist clench. He feels lonely all of sudden, like he is the last person to exist. It’s an overwhelming feeling, way too much to handle for his brain that is already in constant panic mode and the invincible hand returns, squeezing his heart tightly. 

“Ney, just keep breathing.” 

Neymar almost bursts into tears at the sound of the oh so familiar voice. 

“Leo.” He whimpers softly and shifts in his seat so he can bury his face in the crook of the older man’s neck. 

He had really enjoyed Antoine’s company but at this moment in time he is fucking joyful the little Frenchman had given up his seat to Leo. Leo who is now wrapping one of muscular arms around Ney’s body, pulling him close. Neymar feels the sudden urge to climb into Leo’s lap and let him rock him back and forth like a baby but he resists, only nuzzles his cheek against Leo’s neck. 

“Are you okay?” The older man asks him, his voice toned down to a whisper.

Only now Ney notices that the cabin lights above their heads had been turned off. He can barely see across the little corridor that is separating the rows of seats, but after a few seconds he is able to make out Cristiano’s sleeping form across from them. He’s surprised to find his head resting on Ramos’s shoulder. 

Only then does Neymar remember, that he was supposed to be mad at Leo.   
And when he does, he suddenly can’t ignore the acid feeling that has been seething in the pit of his stomach any longer and pulls back from their little, intimidate moment.  
Disappointment washes over Leo’s face when Neymar returns to his previous position but he doesn’t hold him back and doesn’t reach out again. 

But he does whisper “I’m sorry” into the crushing silence and it makes the Brazilian feel somehow better. 

“I know I haven’t been there for you.” Leo follows up his statement, his eyes watching Neymar’s face with a spark of hope for forgiveness. 

“But you had to be there for yourself first, I get it.” 

“Ney-“

“No, I do.” Neymar cuts him off. “I really do. You must be carrying a lot of pressure of those slim shoulders of yours.” 

“Yours are not that much broader.” 

Neymar doesn’t answer that, just keeps staring at Piqué’s head that is peeking out over the seat in front of him. 

“I am sorry.” Leo tries again and carefully reaches towards his boyfriend, fingers gently touching to Neymar’s jaw. “I know I left you to fend on your own.” 

“I guess I need to learn how to do that at some point.” He replies softly and casts his eyes downwards when Leo manages to turn his face towards him. 

“Neymar.” The Argentinian protests weakly. “Don’t shut me out, por favor.”

“I didn’t do anything, you shut me out.” 

“No, I didn’t.” Leo coaxes his chin up until Neymar was forced to look him in the eyes. “But you are right, I am carrying the whole world on my shoulders. We all are actually but Cris and I are the captains, we’re responsible for all of you. I had to focus so I would be able to protect you when we’re up there.” 

Leo leans forward then and presses their lips together in a chaste but meaningful kiss. Neymar discovers that that kind of touch calms down his racing heart and aching stomach so he chases after Leo’s lips instead of talking, connecting them once more. They kiss for a while, no tongue, o teeth, just their mouth sliding together in silent comfort.   
“You can’t protect me.” Neymar breathes when they finally part. “You can’t protect everybody.” 

“I don’t want to protect everybody.” Leo whispers in return and wraps his arm back around Ney’s shoulders. “I just want to protect you.” 

The lights are so bright they are hurting Neymar’s eyes. 

His jersey is sticking to his back, sweat is running down his face, dripping down his chin and onto the pitch. His body hurts, his muscles are screaming but he can’t and won’t stop now.   
Leo is by his side, not looking much better then him. His hair is all messed up, his cheeks are puffed out and burning red. He’s rarely like this, normally always has some breath left in his lungs that will help him go on, but today even he is panting. 

“This game- it’s not even fair.” Antoine is standing on his other side, a bottle of water in his hand. 

He is shaking from exhaustion. 

“They’re so much taller and stronger.” His arm goes up, waving into the direction of their opponents. 

“They have better stamina then us.” Leo comments, gulps down some more water.

Neymar doesn’t say anything, just watches the medics treat Ramos who had literally been ran over by one of the monstrous alien things that were planning to burn down their planet. Ronaldo and Piqué are by his side while the rest of the team is using their chances to spare the little energy they have left and fill up on their water supplies. Neymar notices that Cristiano even has a hand resting on top of his shoulder, massaging gently. 

“Are they a thing?” Neymar blurts out, pushing his fingers beneath the sweat slick fabric of his jersey and solving it from his skin. 

“They might be if we survive this.” Antoine says and pours the rest of his water over the top of his head.

His hair is dripping when they walk back onto the pitch.   
Neymar glances up at the holographical clock. They have five minutes left to play, five minutes to win, lose or stay tied and go into overtime. He would prefer to win because he knows if he keeps up running much longer his legs will just give out under him and that would be it.

Normally overtime is no problem for him and, he doesn’t even need to push himself at the end of most game but this one, this is different. With their alien opponents obviously having a natural advantage Neymar needs to run like he is a sprinter in the fucking Olympics. 

Also the lovely alien-human-whatevers are not playing fair like, at all. They push and pull and scratch and since the damn referee is just another holographical thingy, flickering across the pitch every now and then, it’s no wonder not everything gets called. 

When Ramos was taken down a few minutes ago, Neymar heard him scream for the first time in, well, ever. He didn’t even know that Ramos could scream. 

“We have to score again.” Leo takes him back to the reality. “We can’t compete with them much longer. We need to score as soon as possible.” 

He steps closer, puts a hand on Neymar’s back and splays out his fingers. 

“Ney you need to score.” 

“Me?” Neymar squawks. “Why me? You should- or Cris. You’ve both already scored once.”

“Ney.” Leo’s voice is not much more than a whisper. “They won’t let us go through. They guard us the whole time, I feel like the next time we lead an attack they will our legs.” 

Neymar swallows. 

“So you want me to get my legs broken instead?” 

“No, of course not. You need to be fucking careful, okay? But they don’t pay as much attention to you. We will trick them into thinking we will go up to the goal but in reality you will, okay?” 

“Or me.” Antoine steps up to them and gives both of them a pointed look. “The Frenchman is still here, okay?” 

A small smile spreads across Leo’s lips. 

“Sure. Either Ney or you. We just need a goal.” 

He takes his hand away from Neymar’s back and he immediately misses the warmth. A few seconds later he realizes, that if they won’t win this he will never be able to feel Leo’s warmth anywhere on his body. And he really can’t allow that to happen. 

“We will die in overtime.” Antoine is saying, still standing next to him. 

Neymar breathes deeply, watches the clock, watches the additional time being held up, hears the referee machine blow the whistle, watches Leo start moving again. 

“We won’t go into overtime.” He replies and then starts running. 

Everything after that is a blur of sound and colors. Neymar remembers himself running, Antoine hot on his heels. He doesn’t remember how he gets to the goal exactly, only recalls suddenly being in front of the two goalposts. It’s like he has a mini blackout once more, that comes to an end abruptly with Leo passing the ball towards him. He watches it sail through the air, hears Antoine scream something in Spanish behind him, hears the roar of the crowd when he goes up and then feels the ball hit his head hard. 

He doesn’t see where it goes because he crashes down on the pitch in an ungraceful heap and doesn’t have the energy to get back up. His ears are ringing and the world only stops spinning when Antoine leans over him. 

His azure eyes are huge and he is crying tears of joy, well maybe its sweat, but who really cares anyways? How Neymar knows that he scored and they’ve won? He has no clue, it’s just a feeling that flows through his veins like liquid joy and his face breaks out into a euphoric grin. They’re alive.

Then Leo is suddenly above him, pulling him up and into his arms, screaming words into his ear that Neymar doesn’t understand. His mind is overloaded with all kinds of different emotions, visuals and sensations and his brain is going into panic mode once again. Neymar feels like he’s in a dream, exhausted and happy to just hold onto whoever is hugging him right now. 

At some point Leo crowds back into his personal space, warps his arms around his trembling body and presses his lips to Neymar’s in a fiery kiss. 

“I love you.” He says and Neymar smiles, because those words he would recognize everywhere.


	12. Neymar x Lionel Messi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This drabble is called: "I Miss You". Neymar and Leo break up. Geri is a good friend and helps Leo fix things. 
> 
> Also I changed my tumblr URL. I am now called: barce-fabu-lona.tumblr.com

“Will you please stop that godforsaken tapping?” Geri hisses when they come to a stop in front of a red light.

Leo glances over to the tall man sitting beside him and ruefully takes his hand away from the window. He folds them in his lap instead, holds on tight and stares straight ahead windshield. 

“I’m sorry.” He says and doesn’t move to look at Geri when he hears him sigh. 

The light turns back to green and Leo stares at the speck of color until it starts to become blurry. 

“Are you crying?” Gerard asks, his voice giving away that he is slightly panicking. “Oh nonononono, Leo don’t cry. Fuck! Stop, you’re not as small as Sasha, I can’t just take you in my arms and cradle you like a baby.” 

Leo forces himself to take deep breath through his mouth and then exhale again through his nose. It calms his fluttering heart a bit and he goes to rub at his eyes, preventing those embarrassing tears from falling.  
He’s so emotionally unstable lately. 

“I’m not crying.” The Argentinian remains stubborn.

“Yes, you were. I am sitting next to you and I am sure as hell not blind yet.” Gerard counters.

His voice is loud, way too loud for the small room they find themselves in currently. Leo winces and digs his fingers into his thighs until they start to hurt.

“Stop screaming.” He says, marveling at how white his knuckles look when he squeezes his hands just a little bit harder.

“I’m not.” Geri protests just as loud.

Leo knows, that Geri knows he’s screaming. He always does when he gets nervous or overwhelmed with a certain situations and Leo being emotionally depressed definitely counts as one of those situations. 

“Maybe I should have taken Milan along.” Gerard muses beside him. “He’s always good with cheering people up.” 

“I don’t need any cheering up.” Leo says and finally solves his hands from the sleek leather seat of Geri’s Audi. “I just need sleep.” 

The Spaniard snorts beside him. 

“You’ve been walking around looking like somebody fucking died, Leo. And it’s been weeks. It’s affecting your skills as well and I really don’t want to see Cristiano-longing-to-fuck-himself-Ronaldo win another Ballon D’or. Are we clear on that?” 

Leo smiles a little but when he catches his reflection in the review mirror, he notices it not being a real smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes and he keeps on looking like he has just made his return from the afterlife. Geri is right. 

“Well, maybe I need some more sleep.” Leo mumbles. “Maybe I have to sleep for the rest of my life.” 

“Stop.” Geri groans, he’s really annoyed by now, Leo can tell by the way his hands keep clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel. “You’re a grown man Leo. You’re a fucking football god and you need to get your shit together and call.” 

“What?” 

“Call. C-A-L-L. It’s when you pick up the phone and talk to people.” 

“Who do you want me to call then?” 

Leo is aware of the fact he is behaving like a child, but if Geri wants to play this game, he sure as hell is not going down easy. 

“Neymar.” Gerard is saying incisively. “Want me to spell that out for you as well? N-E-Y-M-A-R.” 

“I hate you so much.” 

Geri laughs at him until Leo makes him pull over. They’re standing on the side of some isolated road in the outskirts of Barcelona now. It’s dark outside and the headlights of Geri’s car are the only light source for miles around. Leo takes a moment to appreciate the privacy that he didn’t know he could find in the busy streets of Barcelona and then loses his seatbelt.

“I can’t call him.” He says simply.

Gerard turns of the car engine and kills the lights as well in the process. They are sitting in complete darkness now but Leo doesn’t mind, knowing that Gerard can’t track every sign of pain showing on his face makes it a little more bearable altogether. 

“Why not?” The Spaniard asks into the night.

“He said he doesn’t want me to call me, said that he doesn’t want to even see me ever again.” 

“Ney says a lot of stupid shit when he’s drunk.” 

“But he wasn’t drunk.”

“Still.” 

Leo feels his eyes getting wet again and this time he leans back and lets it happen. His head is resting against the cool glass of the window and he can hear the salty droplets hit the leather of Geri’s seats. He knows that Gerard hears them as well and he’s thankful the Spaniard doesn’t comment further.

“Rafa called me a couple days ago and said that Ney is hurting as well. He regrets what he said and he wants to talk to you.” The taller man tries again. 

“But I can’t talk Geri, I can’t express what I feel and Neymar, he’s so sensitive. I don’t want to say the wrong thing.” Leo answers, desperately combing his hands through his already greasy hair. 

He looks like a mess and suddenly he’s even more thankful for the pitch black night shielding him from prying eyes. 

“Then let someone else talk for you.” Gerard suggests carefully.

“Someone else? Like who? You?” 

“Nah, man.” Geri denies quickly. “I was thinking of someone better. Someone who can bring across her emotions quiet well.” 

“Shakira?” 

“Good guess but still no. Adele.” 

Leo laughs breathlessly and starts rubbing at his eyes again. He doesn’t want to cry, he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to. He does anyways.

“I’m sorry to let you down Geri but I’m not that rich. I can’t just ship her over and get her to sing to Neymar.” He tells him, hoping the Spaniard will let it go.

“No need to ship her over, I have her album. It’s great. Shak bought it for me.” Geri says instead and Leo can literally hear him grinning.

He sees Geri’s fingers starting to work the sound system of the Audi until it lights up and Adele’s soft, melancholic voice fills the silence of the car. Leo shivers.

“Come on, call him. I have the perfect song ready.” Geri says and leans in to shuffle through the track.

Leo can see him now, the light from the sound system reflection onto his face. It has a weird blue color, kind of like the one of his eyes. But it’s still Geri and Leo trusts him. He trusts him with his life.   
So the Argentinian pulls out his phone and searches for Neymar’s contact with trembling fingers. His name still has a little smiley face behind it and it makes a fresh tear roll down Leo’s cheek and drip onto the display. 

“Stop crying.” Geri exhorts him. “Call him now. I’ve got it all set up.” 

Leo does and puts the phone on speaker once it starts dialing. His hand is shaking so hard Gerard has to reach over to steady it and keep the phone from slipping through Leo’s sweaty fingers. They wait, the tension so thick Leo has trouble breathing evenly. With every passing second his heart speeds up and when there is finally a rustling sound on the other end of the line, he’s sure it will rip right through his chest. He’s sure of it.

“Leo?” Neymar’s voice sounds tired but before the Argentinian has time to answer, Geri hits play and music starts floating through the car. 

He squeezes his eye shut tightly, not wanting to look at his phone and see how Neymar hangs up on him. Gerard’s hand is still there and the Spaniard keeps it there through the whole song. Leo is fucking grateful because he knows he would have pulled away otherwise.

I want every single piece of you  
I want your heaven and your oceans too  
Treat me soft but touch me cruel  
I wanna teach you things you never knew  
Bring the floor up to my knees  
Let me fall into your gravity  
And kiss me back to life to see  
Your body standing over me  
Baby don't let the lights go down  
Baby don't let the lights go down  
Baby don't let the lights go down  
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah  
I miss you when the lights go out  
It illuminates all of my doubts  
Pull me in, hold me tight  
Don't let go, baby give me light  
I miss you when the lights go out  
It illuminates all of my doubts  
Pull me in, hold me tight  
Don't let go, baby give me light  
I love the way your body moves  
Towards me from across the room  
Brushing past my every groove  
No one has me like you do  
Baby you bring your heart, I'll bring my soul  
But be delicate with my ego  
I wanna step into your great unknown  
With you and me setting the tone  
Baby don't let the lights go down  
Baby don't let the lights go down  
Baby don't let the lights go down  
Lights go down, lights go down  
Lights go down  
I miss you when the lights go out  
It illuminates all of my doubts  
Pull me in, hold me tight  
Don't let go, baby give me light  
I miss you when the lights go out  
It illuminates all of my doubts  
Pull me in, hold me tight  
Don't let go, baby give me light  
We play so dirty in the dark  
Cause we are living worlds apart  
It only makes it harder baby  
It only makes it harder baby  
Harder baby, harder baby  
I miss you when the lights go out  
It illuminates all of my doubts  
Pull me in, hold me tight  
Don't let go, baby give me light  
I miss you when the lights go out  
It illuminates all of my doubts  
Pull me in, hold me tight  
Don't let go, baby give me light  
I miss you, I miss you  
I miss you, I miss you  
I miss you, I miss you  
I miss you, I miss you

When the music slowly starts to fade away, Geri hits stops and nudges the phone back towards Leo. He is still shaking when he slowly, carefully lifts the device back to his ear and prays to hear Neymar’s voice. 

“That was so cheesy.” His lover breathes and the sound of his voice make Leo’s stomach do weird things.   
Weird but awesome things. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles back. “I just- I can’t talk, you know that.” 

“I know.” 

Silence. Leo starts counting.

One.  
Two.  
Three.  
Four.  
Five.

“Leo?” 

“Yes?” 

“Are you still there?” 

“Yes, I’m not going anywhere.” 

Six.   
Seven.  
Eight.  
Nine.  
Ten.

“Then come home. I miss you as well.”


	13. Lionel Messi x Cristiano Ronaldo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cristiano and Leo are boyfriends. Cristiano stays with Leo after the last EL Clasico.

“I really, really strongly dislike him.” Leo says while he is unlocking the door to his house.

“Just say that you hate him sweetheart.” Cristiano chuckles.

He is standing behind the smaller man, hands buried in the pockets of his perfectly tailored jacket and his and Leo’s bags slung over his shoulder. Night has already fallen but it’s still warm and Cristiano enjoys feeling the soft breeze on his face.

“Hate is such a harsh word. I don’t like it.” Leo says and steps inside, turning on the lights.

Cristiano follows suit, peels off his shoes and puts them where he always puts them, right next to Leo’s. 

“But you also don’t like Ramos.” He remarks. “Or are you just pissed he scored in that header.” 

“Of course I’m pissed, what do you think?” Leo groans and makes his way to the kitchen. “I need a drink.” 

“I will be right there with you.” Cristiano lets him know and then heads upstairs.

He discards their bags on the floor of Leo’s bedroom and then quickly changes into something more comfortable.   
His eyes wander along the sparely furniture room and halt on a framed photograph that is standing beneath the bed. Cristiano smiles, walks closer and picks up the photo, looking at it fondly. It’s a picture of the two of them on vacation in Cristiano’s hometown in Portugal. The sun is blinding them and while Cristiano still looks amazing, smiling brightly at the camera like he always does, Leo looks like a mess, squinting against the light. 

“Of course you would pick this one.” He chuckles and puts it back in place before making his way back downstairs. 

Leo is sitting on a barstool in the kitchen, glaring holes into the wall opposite of him. He is holding a glass of orange juice in one hand and it makes Cristiano laugh, because really? At the familiar sound Leo breaks out of his trance and decides to glare at Cristiano instead. 

“What are you laughing at?” 

The Portuguese man steps closer and lets his finger run around the rim of the glass.

“I thought you wanted a drink.” 

“I can’t drink alcohol, Cris. It’s the middle of the season.” 

“Well, you can drink something else later if you feel like it.” He says and before Leo can splutter a response, he leans over the counter and kisses him with an intensity that leaves the smaller man gasping for air.

“Maybe I will.” Leo says and Cristiano smirks at the way his cheeks start to flush. 

He causally strolls over to the fridge and pours himself a glass of orange juice as well.

“I saw the photograph upstairs.” He says and leans back against the sink. “Why did you pick that one? I mean I look great but you, you’re a mess.” 

Leo laughs and twirls around to him on his barstool. He recognizes the tenderness in Cristiano’s words, knows that no harm is meant.

“I like it.” He answers. 

“Why?” 

“Because it represents us perfectly.” 

Cristiano hums, swaying his head from side to side. 

“That is indeed the truth.” 

Leo rolls his eyes at the choice of his words and downs the rest of his orange juice. 

“Ney almost had a heart attack when he walked into my bedroom a few days ago.” 

“What is he doing in your bedroom?” 

Now it’s Leo’s time to smirk. He hops off the barstool and plasters himself to Cristiano’s chest. His lips find the Portuguese’s neck and he kisses upwards till he can tug Cristiano’s earring into his mouth. 

“Nothing that we’re about to do in there.”


	14. Neymar x Luis Suárez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luis comforts Neymar after he misses a penalty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This game never really happened. i just imagined it for this drabble.

Suarez is sitting on Neymar’s bench when the young Brazilian emerges from the showers. A cloud of steam follows him but Neymar shivers nevertheless. His hands go to his waist, securing the towel with the Barca emblem so it won’t slide down his skinny hips.

“What are you doing here?” Neymar questions, clearing his throat once he notices it being a little husky.

Luis doesn’t bother to look up from his phone, his thumps flying over the keyboard with rapid speed. He writes like he talks, Neymar thinks. Then his mind wanders and suddenly he is imagining Luis doing other things with that same speed and he grips his towel just a little bit tighter. 

“I’m waiting for you, idiota. You take a damn long time to shower.”

“Sorry.” Neymar mumbles and awkwardly reaches around Luis, who looks like he has no intention of moving whatsoever.

He eventually manages to tuck his clothes out of his locker and starts getting dressed. Of course, right when he lets the damp towel slide to the floor, Luis decides to end whatever conversation he was previously entertaining and looks over to Neymar. His dark eyes light up at the side of a naked Brazilian struggling to put on his boxers and he keeps staring until the younger man has hurriedly pulled the fabric up his legs.

“Why are you in a hurry?” Luis teases him, oblivious to the scarlet color of Neymar’s face. “’s not like I haven’t seen you before.”

“Shut up.” Neymar gasps and wriggles into his tight jeans before yanking on a shirt and collecting his stuff from his locker.

He’s ready to make his exit when Luis is suddenly in his way, blocking the door.

“Hey, hey, hey.” The Uruguayan puts his hands to Neymar’s shoulders, holds him in place. “What’s upsetting you? I remember us kicking Sevilla’s ass. Where were you when that happened?”

Neymar huffs and shuffles a bit under Luis’s grip. He knows he could break free if he wanted to; Luis never really keeps him from doing anything but his heart feels so heavy in his chest that Neymar decides to stay.

“I was running around being useless.” He answers and locks eyes with the older man.

“Ahh, you’re mad because the keeper blocked your penalty.”

Neymar starts pouting and he looks like a child that has been restricted from watching TV, he knows this but he can’t help himself anyways.

“It should have gone in. It was a good shot.”

“It was a good shot.” Luis confirms and reaches up, touching his thump to Neymar’s bottom lip. “But the keeper made a good save and we won nonetheless. So it’s fine, stop breaking your pretty little head over it.”

“Stop calling me pretty.” Neymar says and ignores the way Luis laughs at him.

They go to his place after that, have dinner together, play a bit of Fifa and then end up making out when they’re supposed to be resting. It has become their routine over the past few months and normally this is Neymar’s favorite part of it all, burying his fingers in Luis’s short hair, tugging and pulling until the older man gives in and opens up for his tongue. He feels young in moments like these, younger then he already is.

But tonight is different. Luis doesn’t make him feel like he normally does, his kisses are still leaving burning patterns on Neymar’s face and throat but he just can’t relax, his body not really responding to the older man’s touches. Eventually Luis pulls back.

“Ney.” He says, his forehead furrowing a little. “What’s wrong. Am I doing anything that you don’t like.”

“No, no.” The Brazilian shakes his head vehemently and rubs a hand along his naked stomach. “It’s good, just continue, please.”

Luis doesn’t fulfill his request, just keeps looking at Neymar like he is some type of exotic animal.

“Missing that shot must really be bother you.” He finally says. “Normally you are already sporting a boner when all I do is bend over in training and now when I actually want you to get it up, you’re too busy beating yourself up over a stupid goal.”

Neymar splutters and pushes Luis off of him. He sits up in his bed and crosses his arms over his chest, trying his best to look hurt or at least a little bit angry.

“It was not a goal.” He protests. “And I do not get turned on by you bending over. I get turned on by Messi playing football.”

Luis hits his chest hard and the blow almost sends Neymar flying off the bed but he laughs anyways. Soon they are wrestling each other and before the young man knows what’s happening Luis is all over him again.

He decides to stay the night when they’re done because he’s learned to love the strong, warm body pressing against his back when he sleeps. Neymar also enjoys being the little spoon, even though he would never ever admit that out loud and lying in his bed alone makes him feel lonely.  
But he is not lonely now, Luis is there, one arm wrapped around Neymar’s waist and his lips pressing lazy kisses into his hair. His mind is starting to become fuzzy and right when the Brazilian is about to lose himself to sleep, his lover speaks up behind him.

“You will score again eventually.”

“Huh?”

“Your record, I know that’s what’s really bothering you. You haven’t scored in a while and the press is starting to get loud.”

Neymar doesn’t feel the need to answer that because Luis knows he’s hit the nail on the head.

“You know they talk shit about everybody, Ney.” He mumbles and continues kissing the back of Neymar’s neck. “They even talk shit about Leo sometimes and we both know he’s out of this world.”

“But I’m not Leo. He’s the king.”

Luis hums deeply, his hands sliding all the way around to Neymar’s chest and carefully massaging his abs.

“Don’t let them get you down, amada. They’re not worth it. Maybe you’re not their king, but you can be mine if you want to.”


End file.
